JaZzArt en València

¿Has visto la peli 7 Prisioneros?
Una corta reseña

Peli brasileña dirigida por Alexandre Moratto (Sócrates, 2018) que aunque pasó por algunos festivales de cine ahora la distribuye Netflix. Se destacan los actores brasileños Rodrigo Santoro (300, 2006), y Christian Malheiros (Sócrates, 2018).

7 Prisioneros (titulo original 7 Prisioneiros) hecha en 2021, diría yo que es del género realismo socialista y también del cine que llaman “slice of life”. Se basa en la lucha de clases en Brasil, vista desde el punto de vista de la vida de un chaval de dieciocho años, Mateus, (Christian Malheiros) y de otros tres chicos, todos pobres campesinos marginados que apenas tienen para comer. Viven en el campo y en la miseria hasta que un personaje, aparentemente de la confianza de los tres, los convence a ir con él a São Paulo donde les espera un buen trabajo o sea, el futuro.

Pero todo era mentira. Cuando llegan a Sao Paulo son llevados a un polígono industrial donde los obligan a currar en un negocio de chatarra que lo dirige un tal Sr. Lucas (Rodrigo Santoro). Enseguida los chicos comienzan a darse cuenta que han sido víctimas de un engaño. Lucas en cortos días los convierte en esclavos, los amenaza de muerte, no solo a ellos pero también a sus familias y Mateus se da cuenta que este negocio lo dirige una mafia que está por todas partes de São Paulo.

Los guionistas, (Thayná Mantesso, Alexandre Moratto), crean, dentro de ese almacén de chatarra, donde transcurre casi toda la peli, un micro-cosmos donde todo lo rige una mafia. A mí esto se me parece mucho al sistema marxista-leninista que le imponen los comunistas a la ciudadanía cuando se apoderan de un país. EL estado lo es todo y el pueblo, que ellos llaman la masa, tiene que obedecer, trabajar y callarse la boca. El trabajo no lleva a mejor vida, sino que es obligación para cumplir con las demandas del estado. El proletario bueno es el que…como hizo Mateus…se adapta y se une al patrón y así logra algunas recompensas. El que se resiste…el proletario malo…recibe castigos y más trabajo.

En este mundo, aberrado y horroroso, nada cambia, nada mejora. Aquí, construyendo el comunismo, siempre serás esclavo. Pero si vendes tu moral y tu cultura y te unes al partido/sistema y te conviertes en un sicario como Lucas, vivirás un poco mejor, pero jamas serás hombre libre. Los demás seguirán arrastrando sus cadenas.

Para mi 7 Prisioneros es una peli de propaganda. Se ve cómo, a través del condicionamiento operante, Mateus cambia y se convierte en un ser tan despreciable como Lucas. Me da la impresión que quieren decirnos que hay seres que deben ser esclavos y otros que tienen el derecho a esclavizarnos…

A little bit of you…

a piece of me.

Sweat breaks off our skin and we sprinkle the floor with the gin we drank in better days when we thought we were truly free.

No, it wasn’t honey, we toasted with bile and not champagne, no honey moon with us remained.

And it wasn’t freedom.

Shackled hands and shackled feet to the altar we were led by a glorious man of many wars a sailor tried and true, with voices pouring from his head that made us dream of youth…

A hefty chunk of you,

and a bit more of me,

leads us to days when we suffer dearly and crave to live one more second of laughter or a minute of tears.

Because if from you and from me there exists only shadows,

from me and from you there is nothing.

C.2021, Francisco Bravo Cabrera, 28 de noviembre 2021, València, España

CADA DÍA

Un poco de ti,

un poco de mi.

Se desprende el sudor, se desprende el anís que bebimos pensando que ya éramos libres.

No fue luna de miel, pues bebimos un trago de hiel no champán.

Y no fue libertad, pues atado de manos y pies al altar nos llevó un militar con su capa de seda y su voz que nos hizo soñar…

Un pedazo de ti,

un pedazo de mi,

cada día sufrir más, cada día por vivir una breve caricia al llorar o reír.

Pues si de ti y de mi solo quedan las sombras, de mi y de ti no queda ya nada.

C.2021, Francisco Bravo Cabrera, 28 de noviembre 2021, València, España

Desde el la primera vez que oí «Southern Cross» me encantó, especialmente las voces, las armonías que crean y que le dan una dinámica muy especial a la canción. Stephen Stills canta la primera parte y en la segunda se le une su compañero Graham Nash, junto a sus voces se unió también Art Garfunkel, pero David Crosby no canta en la versión que salió en el álbum Daylight Again. En el vídeo, que fue transmitido por MTV, David Crosby si prestó su voz y el vídeo se vio una y otra vez en los años cuando en MTV ponían música.

Always loved this «Southern Cross», especially the harmonies they sing, the way the voices grow and form a powerful melodic transition. Stephen Stills sang the first part with Graham Nash joining in. Art Garfunkel also lent his voice to the lads. David Crosby did not sing in this…the album…version, (Daylight Again), although he did sing it onstage and on the video which got a hell of a lot of airplay on MTV. Of course on the days that MTV actually played music…

El super-grupo Crosby, Stills & Nash lo formaron entre 1968 y 1969 estos tres músicos que procedían de otros grupos norteamericanos bastante famosos. Por ejemplo David Crosby era miembro de The Byrds, Stephen Stills de Buffalo Springfield y Graham Nash (el único inglés del grupo) era miembro de The Hollies, uno de los grupos que vinieron a EEUU como parte de la supuesta «Invasión británica» de los años sesenta.

The super-group Crosby, Stills & Nash was formed in 1968/1969. The members all came from older bands. David Crosby came from The Byrds, while Stephen Stills had formed part of Buffalo Springfield, (where Neil Young also played) and Graham Nash had been with The Hollies, you know The Hollies, one of those groups that was part of the so-called British Invasion (of the US of course).

Gracias…

Cheers…

Os he hecho un paréntesis para introduciros a un pintor contemporáneo y he elegido a Miquel Barceló porque admiro su obra y porque creo que en ella se nota la influencia de los grandes maestros de la antigüedad que seguramente estudió durante su estancia en las academias de arte.

I thought it would be nice to take a break from the old and begin to introduce some of the new. I chose Barceló because I do admire his work and I think that in it one can see the influences that the study of art history and of the masters can bring to modern art.

Gracias…

Cheers…

To ride the silence of your thoughts in my ship of purple,

I spin the earth, motivate the winds, inflate the sails,

entice the oceans to make currents fast and wide

because we alone in silent dreams do abide…

To climb upon your purple thoughts of thunder and creation,

I flatten truth, unwind the clocks, connect the lights that brighten your dark street,

and empty out the bar so we alone within can drink…

C.2021, Francisco Bravo Cabrera, 25 NOV 2021, Valencia, Spain

Cheers…

Chapter 4
(1977)

Ah, the melodic and quite rhythmic sounds of the UH-1, my beloved Huey, guaranteed to scare the shit out of these germs…that’s what we called the communist guerrillas…that are trying to make of this country another Cuba.

And I was right, not a single shot and the threat was gone. Those cowboys up there at just about 150 metres from the Earth are my heroes for sure. I let out the air I was holding, I guess for about three or four minutes, took a deep, cleansing breath, and looked for Sandra.

“Corporal, you alright?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

We were both looking up at the chopper, still low in the sky, but flying back eastward, towards the Caribbean coast, back to base, or wherever it was that they came from. Knowing that was above my pay grade I guess because no one ever told me.

“I think we should do the same thing.”

“What?”

“Head back home.”

“No class today?”

“Maybe, but I think a stop at the student bar, a few cold ones and some quality time with the pinball machine will make me much happier.”

“Then it’s a plan,” she said with a smile that made me think of her as a little girl who has just agreed with her mother that it would be better to go for ice cream than to the dentist.

I went right to my room after a few beers. I was still a little shaken up. It wasn’t the fact that they fired at us, I’ve been in combat before. What scared me was that they didn’t kill us. The shots were either a warning or a way of them telling us that no matter what we did, no matter what we brought with us, this was their territory, their land, they knew it well…we didn’t…and they could do whatever they wanted to us. We were a handful, they were everybody.

This country had come out of a revolution where they ousted the communists that had come into power through their own revolution. They had endured an uncertain time when guerrilla fighters would shoot up stores, buses, trains, anything that they associated with the government or with “the rich”. These hit men would ride through the cities on motorcycles and the guy in back would be the shooter.

Finally a military man took control of the government. He set up a sort of “benign” dictatorship to get the country back on track, to fix the economy, and most importantly to rid the population of the threat of violence at the hands of the marauding communists on motorcycles. It became illegal to ride two on a bike, of any type.

It was January 1977. Scientists had just discovered the bacteria that causes this strange disease that had been troubling the minds of all and that they called Legionnaires’ disease. President Ford had pardoned ‘Tokyo Rose’ on his last day in office as President of the United States and Jimmy Carter had been sworn in as the nation’s thirty ninth president, and the great blizzard had hit upstate New York. The hottest song on the hit parade was “Tonight’s the Night” by the one and only Rod Stewart…

I was twenty two years old and a sergeant…E-5…in the United States Army. As soon as I finished my fourth year in university I’m going into OCS, no doubt. I’m not interested in rising through the ranks but I want to be able to make a few decisions and becoming an officer is the way to start. Although everybody tells me I am wrong, I follow my own drummer.

My phone rang at 0237 hours. Was that the fucking phone, or did I just dream this? No, shit, there it is again, it’s the phone and nothing good can come through that line at this hour so I quickly shook the sleep from my head and replied.

“I’ll be right there sir.”

C.2021, Francisco Bravo Cabrera, 24 NOV 2021, Valencia, Spain